Cauldron Boil, and Cauldron Drabble
by RawMateriel
Summary: A collection of one-shots, the common thread is that I wrote them. So... Pretty tenuous.
1. JamesLily

Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round One.

Position: Keeper

Position Prompt: Write a magical creature you've never written before

Title: Can of Flobberworms

Word Count: 2,500

Beta(s): CUtopia, Aya Diefair, DinoDina (Thank you!)

Go Wanderers!

* * *

"It's a physical pain, Padfoot," James Potter whispered; he was splitting Flobberworms to add to their Draft of Daring.

Sirius Black stood over the cauldron, a wooden spoon in one hand, and his copy of Advanced Potion Making in the other.

"Add the worms once the potion turns grey, boys and girls, we all know idle hands do the devil's work, well, nothing like boredom to inject a bit of wild into us, no?" Slughorn called from the top of the class. "Flobberworms are creatures classified as one X, boring. This makes them useful ingredients to bring out a witch or wizard's impulsive side."

James groaned in discomfort.

"Maybe it's gas?" Sirius suggested, the quill he held between his teeth distorting his words.

"Don't be a tosser," James grumbled, and he cast his hazel eyes across the classroom to take in the subject of his ire. His gut twisted when he found Lily Evans _giggling_ just a few paces away. Laughing with _him_. "That slimy git."

James split the last of the dried Flobberworms with particular panache and handed the lot to Sirius. Severus Snape worked alongside Lily; he was hardly smiling and yet she threw her head back laughing at some quiet comment he made like he was Merlin himself. What could she possibly see in that greasy snake?

"Ah, mate," Sirius sighed, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder as he dropped the final ingredients into the bubbling concoction. "She'll come to her senses eventually. I mean seriously, next to that glorified sentient bag of pus, you look like the Minister for Magic. If she were spending her time with someone more like me maybe you'd have something to worry about, but there's no accounting for taste…"

"There _really_ isn't. What is it about him that makes him so much more appealing to Evans than someone like me?"

"'Someone like you', here meaning you, I take it?" Sirius grinned. "It's a mystery, she's been subject to years of the ballsack's brainwashing, though. It's the same as the way you've been wearing her down for years. Even you've made a dent. Snivellus has been softening her up since she was born or whatever. You can't fault a man for that kind of preparation. The early toerag gets the gingernut, as they say."

James scoffed. "You know it's just occurred to me that in the case of you, I'm the gingernut. I must be mad to put up with you."

"Ah, but you're stuck with me now, see? Got you while you were young and fresh. Here, why don't you take your shot at Evans for the day. This should pluck you up." Sirius held the wooden spoon aloft with a drop of the sky blue Draft of Daring on the end.

Inexplicably, swallowing the potion struck James as an excellent idea,

* * *

"What on earth happened to you?" Remus Lupin asked when James entered the Common Room several hours later. "I haven't been able to track you down all evening, but if any of the accounts I've heard have been reliable, you may be old and grey by the time you get out of detention. And how you intend to make up the forty-seven house points you've managed to lose in a day, I have no idea."

"Oh, give it a rest young prefect of the forest!" James boomed; all that was left of his uniform was his shirt — which was undone — and his scarlett boxers covered in snitches.

"You'd be wise to listen to your friend, Mr. Potter," a familiar voice, which had Remus sitting straighter in his seat, warned. Minerva McGonagall apparently had had a hand in haranguing James back to the tower. She emerged through the portrait hole behind him, wand aloft.

"Professor!" Remus exclaimed.

"Mr. Lupin, I'd be grateful if you could find way to get Potter to bed, it seems that after a sip of Daring Draft, he promptly dared himself to drink as much as he could. He nearly choked on a half dissolved Flobberworm and vomited on poor Ms. Evans during a misguided marriage proposal."

"She said yes, though!" James protested, beating his chest in triumph.

"No she bloody didn't. Please Lupin, I'm not fit for a term in Azkaban at my age, but it's going to be a close thing if this child isn't removed from my sight."

Remus stood and rushed over.

"Child?!" James protested, his thumb finding the waistband of his boxers, "I'm a man!"

"Alright..." Remus clapped one hand over James's mouth and the other on his wandering wrist. "Thank you, Professor. I promise to do my best."

"Worst comes to worst, you have my permission to throw him into the fireplace."

Remus stifled a laugh as McGonagall straightened her robes and corrected a few hairs which had strayed from her bun.

"I suppose if you get a chance you could throw some floo powder in first… send him down to Professor Slughorn. Horace should know better then to leave him and Black to their own devices with that dreadful potion. We're still struggling to liberate Mr. Snape from the chandelier in the atrium."

* * *

It was a far from peaceful process getting James to bed, but eventually, with some binding charms and some artful levitation, he was secured in his four-poster.

James was amused when his friends went to sleep feeling comfortable in the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere. They all seemed to sleep deeply after the excitement of James's behaviour followed by the fifteen-or-so minutes Remus and Peter Pettigrew had dedicated to whacking Sirius with a rolled up Daily Prophet for causing the whole catastrophe while he shouted at them for being a pair of Muggles.

When everything was still, the room's occupants' light snoring was violently interrupted by the loud tearing of James' bonds as he ambitiously became a stag in the middle of the dorm.

"Oh, for the love of—" one of the boys cried, but James was off. Crashing through the dorm room door, out and down the hall. He pranced down the stairs in two leaps and up the to the girls dorm in three. At the top, safe from his pursuers, he was a boy— a man — once more.

Once he'd made it, he grinned. Even without his Invisibility Cloak he felt like he was untouchable. Undetectable.

"I'm a master of subterfuge!" he announced out loud, and opened the first door in reach, wanting to make the most of his successful siege.

By some miracle he reminded himself to be a little quieter, and then in an instant he spotted what had the potential to be the Holy Grail itself.

First he saw her, lips pink as petals, hair red as a phoenix flame, but just beside her a leather bound book. Could it be?

He picked up what he was sure would be her diary and opened it to read in the dim light. His grunt of frustration joined the soft sounds of sleep surrounding him as the darkness proved to be too thick. Quickly, he stepped out into the hall — where several torches were still lit — and opened the journal to a marked page.

He read:

 _I understand that the bastard was under the influence, but I couldn't care less. Blimey what a ruddy tosser! I don't even want to write these words, I want to ask Sev to obliviate me in the morning. Potter_ — _UGH_ — _actually vomited on me in Potions today! That brute is going to ruin my life! There is something seriously wrong with him. I hope I never have to be around someone like that, someone so impulsive and loud and arrogant and just… such a big-headed toe-rag. Sev is such a calming influence by comparison, sometimes being in Gryffindor house as someone introverted can be so tiring. A girl needs some peace and quiet now and then. Maybe even some dull company. Just… whatever the opposite of Potter is._

 _The only person I've ever seen making word vomit and actual vomit at once. Gross. At this point I'm close to saying: give me boredom or give me death. Just once. I'll kiss the next witch or wizard to bore me to sleep. Professor Binns has never looked more like marriage material. Oh Merlin there's Flobberworm in my hair_ —

* * *

"What's gotten into him?" Peter asked as the Gryffindors made their was down to Care of Magical Creatures early the next morning.

Sirius and Remus shared a look as James forged ahead, his eyes downcast.

"He's on a comedown, Wormy," Sirius said. "You'd know what that was if you were any fun, you ruddy lump."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James asked, suddenly pulled from his stupor. "Are you saying that I can't be subdued unless I'm hungover from some mad stunt?" James glanced sidelong at Lily. "Sometimes a person just gets tired of all the noise you lot cause, alright? Maybe I just need a break."

Lily did in fact glance over at this and James's friends were quiet for a moment in response.

Until the three of them fell apart laughing as one.

James frowned as Lily turned away.

"Us?!" Remus asked, incredulous. "The three blokes who spent the morning casting ten Reparos each on the dormitory door _you_ obliterated last night."

"We need to get you a mirror big enough to include your whole head mate, because you're overdue a long hard look at yourself," Sirius added, wiping away a tear.

"Shove off," James grumbled, redoubling his pace, his jaw set.

* * *

"For the next week, you will each be required to care for a creature, write up your results, etc. It's not dissimilar to last year's Spring project. This year, however, you will be allowed to care for creatures of a three X classification if you so choose. On Friday, we'll have our first round of presentations."

There was a murmur of excitement at this, being the Gryffindor class, it was widely accepted that most of the students would be taking advantage of this opportunity to select a more dangerous option then the year previous.

James himself had already set his heart on a Demiguise for this project, aware that the creatures were due to be bumped up to four X classification anyday.

His classmates began to make their requests, choosing challenging and interesting options.

Lily quickly selected an Ashwinder, as Sirius requested a Billywig, already having thoroughly laid plans to 'jab Snape in the arse with it.'

"Mr. Potter," Kettleburn asked, "what'll it be?"

And for some reason James hesitated, and then it hit him like a tonne of bricks and he grinned.

"Professor, I've been thinking, and I've decided I want to focus on Flobberworms."

* * *

By late that evening, there was a cage waiting in the entrance hall to be collected by each of the Care of Magical Creatures students in James's year.

Creatures of all sorts of colours and sizes presenting all different sorts of challenges were carried off or wheeled away until at last James reached the professor. Kettleburn had a scar running from the side of his nose over his mouth to the bottom of his chin, and it pulled oddly on his mouth when he gave James a wry smile.

"You sure about this, Potter?" Kettleburn asked, pulling a small jar from his pocket, there were several air holes stabbed in the cap and two Flobberworms resting near motionless at the bottom. "Most of the other students have taken a can of Flobberworms as well. You know, to feed their creatures of choice?"

Lily's words returned to James as if he'd heard them spoken aloud and not just seen them in her diary: _I'll kiss the next witch or wizard to bore me to sleep._

"I'm sure," James said, and took the jar. Ladies' choice. "Unless you have anything less interesting?"

Kettleburn looked surprised for a beat and then chuckled. "I might have a dead Flobberworm in my office somewhere, Potter, but honestly even at the best of times it can be hard to detect any signs of life from these bad boys. You sure know how to pick'em."

James looked over at Lily as she fussed over the instructions for her Ashwinder eggs. "I certainly do," he replied, utterly convinced that the Flobberworms were on course to increase his sex appeal ten-fold.

* * *

Over the next week James made sweet love to the cause of the Flobberworms, he read every piece of literature he could find on it. Most of this research involved reading countless paragraphs on what might make a good non-toxic snack for much more interesting creatures. Flobberworms were the suggested food, even for Flobberworms.. He brought the jar of Flobberworms with him everywhere, talked to them, told them his worries.

They made good sturdy companions, they were always there, working hard as a foil to bounce jokes about Snape against.

"How did you get out, you slippery, oily, brainless little worm?" James asked Snape now and then.

"Still running low on new material, Potter?"

"Oh, Snivellus! So sorry, once more I mistook you for Snivellus Junior! Fortunately, he's still right here in his jar trying to eat Snivellus Senior."

"Strong words coming from a man who nearly died choking on a Flobberworm only two days ago."

James gasped, pulling his jar close to his chest. "Don't listen to your brother, my little Snivellii. He's confused. He knows not what he does."

One of the worms flopped soundlessly to the left.

"Are you pleased now, you wretch! You've upset them!"

* * *

James's turn to do his presentation was on Monday, which was ideal since Monday was definitely on theme for his parade of dullness.

He started with absolutely no gusto whatsoever. He knew his audience well and his plan was to take them places they'd hoped never to go; new unfound realms of boredom. It was made a lot easier by the previous presentations being completely enthralling.

James made sure to speak at length, at great length.

The length of the Flobberworm in inches, in hands, in fractions of a yard. The width of the Flobberworm in inches, in hands, in fractions of a yard. The colour of the Flobberworm at the time of hatching, light brown. At the time of adolescence, light brown. In adulthood, brown. There was _so_ much to say.

And ten minutes in, James saw it. Lily Evans, who at the beginning of his talk had looked inexplicably alert and interested, probably because as much as he loved her she was a diehard nerd, her eyelids were looking _heavy_. Maybe she had been interested because she was curious why he, of all people, had made the decision to cover Flobberworms of all things. But something in this intriguing thought must have injected some passion into James's voice because Lily perked up, so he promptly continued:

"Flobberworms like stillness, dullness or low light, and generally unstimulating environments. As unstimulating as possible, their soul is brown, or maybe grey according to some divination experts. Here is a memo from Professor Trelawney on the subject of the aura of Flobberworms..." With that he had lulled her back into a fugue state.

He wasn't going to stop until he'd gotten the result he'd come for.

* * *

Lily's head hit the desk with a bang as she lost consciousness and she jerked back awake with a gasp. James was staring at her, eyes wide at the interruption.

She blinked, cleared her throat, and apologised.

"Sorry," she mumbled, wiping possible drool from her lip.

"It's alright," James muttered. Christ she felt so relaxed, she watched James continue his overwhelmingly monotonous presentation. She frowned. He'd never seemed more attractive.


	2. Sybil

Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round Two.

Position: Keeper

Position Prompt : Velociraptor: Write about a character joining a group (such as The Death Eaters, Order of the Phoenix, Marauders, etc.)

Title: Live Honestly

Word Count: 1,200

Beta(s): CUtopia, Aya (Thank you!)

Go Wanderers! Special thanks to Ozzy Osborne!

* * *

She stared at the letter in disbelief.

"You seem surprised, Lumpy," said her husband of less than a month. He hardly glanced up from his morning paper. Bildert Higglebottom wasn't the most attentive for a newlywed – in fact, he seemed generally dissatisfied with their married life in a way which had never been an issue during their engagement. Sybill believed that this might be connected with Neptune being in the House of Capricorn, but she wouldn't be sure until the full moon.

"No, of course not," she replied, flustered. She lifted the letter to her forehead, just over her third eye, and tipped her head back. "It is just as I predicted."

"What's that?"

"I am fated to join the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to teach Divination. I am to become Professor Sybill Trelawney."

Bildert folded his paper. "You mean Professor Sybill Higglebottom," he interjected. It was not the first time they had had this disagreement, but at no other point had it irked Sybill so. She was to become a professor of Divination, to finally gain recognition as a full-blooded seer; the Bildert who had courted her so ardently would've had tears in his eyes.

"Try to understand, Trelawney is a name which represents my ancestral ties to the third eye. Must I explain once more why it is integral that I remain true to my seer heritage? Now, dark things may befall us if we fail to celebrate our good fortune." She went to the press to get some sherry for a toast.

The man at the table huffed. "You've had a few weeks to get used to the idea now, Lumpy. Truly, who matters more to you? This ancestor you've never met? Or me, your husband. Higglebottom is a name which represents your ties to me. In the here and now." She placed a full glass in front of him. She wished he would join her in her excitement at being accepted into the faculty of the famed institution. She imagined him picking her up and spinning her around as he had when she had agreed to marry him.

"What a burden the here and now is to a clairvoyant such as myself. Trelawney is the name which is about to keep you in moustache wax." She lifted the letter once more, clutched the glass of sherry to her chest and closed her eyes. "I see it!"

"Oh, some psychic energy it takes to work out that the job you've just been offered is going to make us money. Higglebottom is the name that put a roof over your head."

"Yes, you asking me to marry you just as you inherited your grandmother's house was enterprising indeed." She lifted her glass in a salute to herself and swallowed the contents. "I can sense her spirit here, at least she is happy for me. Why don't you pass me your cup, I'll read your leaves and see what this triumph means for you."

"Forget the bloody leaves. Perhaps my granny would be happier if you would join her family with pride."

"Perhaps I could do so by allowing her grandson to take my venerable family name, and escape the childhood taunt that is Higglebottom? Come, pass me the cup, you always enjoy my readings." She placed the letter on the table and reached for the cup, but he tugged it back.

"Me take your name? That's rich. Two minutes since you found out about your position reading tea leaves professionally and you've already gotten too big for your scarves."

"Two minutes since I found out? It was written in the stars! Is that how you feel about my readings? That they are endearing only when I give them as an amateur?"

"Another set of marvelous predictions made after the fact."

"Oh, oh I have been struck with a vision!" She stumbled, somewhat in the wake of cynicism. "I predict the Trelawney name shall bring me such fortune, such stability, that I will have no need to seek it elsewhere. And it could bring you with it, or you might remain a Higglebottom, and in so doing your pride shall bring you to ruin!"

"My ruinous pride? Coming from the witch who is too stubborn to accept her role as a wife. You didn't have to marry me, Lumpy, if you didn't want to answer to me. It's not as though you'd be willing to admit you didn't know what you were getting into."

"Must you undermine me at every turn?" She massaged her temples, knocking her glasses askew in the process. "I need to light some cleansing herbs, that vision was powerful indeed."

"Give it a rest, Sybill. Do you take me for a fool?"

"If you must know, I ignored the signs that you would ask me to relinquish my independence once we were pledged to one another, my foresight was blinded by love."

"How convenient."

"Pass me your cup," she said, making a last stitch attempt to remind herself of why she had felt so connected to him in those early days, when he had seemed so full of reverence and faith for the noble practice of Divination.

"Sybill, I swear, if you don't admit that you have the foresight of a horse with its blinkers on backwards, and turn that teaching post down, you can consider us done."

Her heart sank in her chest, she felt suddenly dizzy. "T-turn down the post? What?" She balled her hands into fists. "So I can live off your poo-mining business and waste my gift?!"

"If you have a problem with making money from the Dragon dung market you can take off that diamond it bought you."

"I wish the crap spewing from those Dragon's was the only thing muddying this ring!"

Suddenly, he stood up and walked to her. He pulled her glasses from her face and picked up one of her scarves from the back of a chair. "Sybill, I can sense your aura!" He announced, putting on the items and picking up the glass of sherry she'd poured for him. "I can sense that you are in grave danger!" He added, closing his eyes and swaying in a cruel impression.

"Stop it!" She cried, nearly reaching for her wand.

"I predict that you are destined to die a lonely fraud, or live honestly as my wife!" He saluted her with the sherry glass and the poured the contents over her letter where she'd laid it down on the kitchen table. "The choice is yours."

"Oh, of course my love, let me just consult the oracle," she replied, and planting her feet on the ground she took a restorative breath, closed her eyes, and promptly lifted her middle finger.

* * *

"And welcome also to the latest Professor of Divination to join our staff, Professor Sybill Trelawney!"

The applause emanating from the students below was polite, warm, and validating, just as she'd predicted. She felt at home, she felt as though she was finally being accepted for who she was, and she felt anything but lonely. Unlike Sybill, Bildert was no seer, but it didn't take a Trelawney to work that out.


	3. Kingsley

Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round Three.

Position: Keeper

Position Prompt: Jurassic Park

Title: Life Finds a Way

Word Count: 1,103

Beta(s): DinoDina, AyaDiefair, CUtopia (Thank you!)

Go Wanderers!

VoldemortWins!AU

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt let his gaze wander over the scenery in front of him.

In these days, he did that very often.

Observing.

Taking in the details.

Pureblood children laughed evilly as they moved between the cages in small groups. Their eyes wide and full of detest, they pointed their fingers and hurled slurs at the people behind the bars. Indoctrinated by hate, they didn't wonder about right or wrong.

As far as he could see, there were cages after cages lined up, each marked neatly with a name plate. Strong magic surrounded the cages. All of them were occupied by shaggy figures that had once fought for freedom.

The young Muggleborn tried to hide somehow, curling up in a corner and closing her eyes. The veterans stood tall, like proud bronze statues reminding of history long ago, of people who'd devoted their life to a historic cause.

No matter how horrible their situation seemed, how final this existence felt in cages, a ridiculousness on display, appeared to be, they were not broken yet. Many had survived a war before, and they'd sworn to each other that this would not be the end. They could be locked up, forced to live like animals, fed with the lowest food imaginable, but they would not admit defeat yet.

Their time would come.

Foolish minds assumed that the exhibits were no threat. Each one had their own cage, contact was almost impossible.

Almost.

Kingsley's gaze jumped to the younger man in the cage opposite to him, over the heads of the people crowding to see the former proud auror.

Neville Longbottom met his eyes, gave a barely existent nod. Then he turned away again.

Words were not necessary when you knew what the goal was.

Yes, their time would come.

Soon.

Time lost meaning in the exhibition. Each day was the same.

Staring faces, pointing fingers, slurs hauled every other minute. Guides explaining about the degenerated nature of the exhibits.

And so it just seemed like another ordinary day for everyone. The guides, the guards, the visitors, each followed their business.

The guards made their rounds, finding nothing out of order; there'd never been problems before. It was an easy job for them, though it honestly didn't require any intelligence either. Maybe that was why no one noticed the figure in brightly coloured clothes that lingered around by some cages and immediately disappeared into the crowd whenever a guard came near.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

The guides gave their tours, which were fully booked this weekend, thanks to the excellent weather. They navigated the crowded paths skilfully, educating the interested visitors and painted the most glorious pictures of the triumph many years ago before informing about the roles of the sorry creatures behind the bars. Birth defects had caused the illusions that had made them bring the Wizarding World into two wars, they explained, and that everyone was lucky that exhibit's horrible reign over the magical population had ended. Their prime goal had been the extinction of Purebloods.

Most visitors were families, and the parents had their very own stories that they gleefully passed on to their children, adding gory details as they went.

No one was bothered by the pure cruelty that could be observed, by the deliberate false information that was spread wide. Lies planted into the heads of the youngest, until they deemed it normal what they saw.

It must have reminded many Muggleborns of the Muggle zoos, in the most horrifying way. Families having a good time, enjoying their weekend and the sun. Many had brought lunch packages and eaten at the picnic tables located on the meadows between exhibition categories. Adults greeted friends that coincidentally had come to the park with their family, too. The adults sent their kids to the playground while they conversed.

As if the people in the cages were mere props, decorations of a fun day out.

The atmosphere was carefree, the visitors were having fun, and everything seemed to be the way it always was.

However, that was over in a matter of seconds.

A deafening loud explosion by the cages located in the Order of the Phoenix corner – there was no difference between Muggleborns and Blood Traitors – made the earth shudder violently.

And immediately, chaos broke out.

Children that had strolled away from their families screamed for their parents in high-pitched voices dripping with fear, crying tears of terror. People started running away from ground zero, some parents desperately pushing against the crowd in search of their children. Many were thrown off their feet by the momentum of the mass moving into the opposite direction, and they were trampled down mercilessly.

And in all the hectical havoc, nobody, not even the guards, seemed to pay any attention to the cages. Though why should they? The exhibits were worthless, subhuman creatures to them.

But then some guard had a moment of rare brilliance – what if the exhibits would use the confusion to escape? Or worse, what if they got their hands on a wand?

A nightmare that would definitely cost them their jobs.

Gone would be the wizarding social security insurance.

When the first guard moved towards the cages, the others seemed to get the message, and followed.

But it was too late.

When they'd managed to get past the panicking people, they suddenly stood face to face with none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The low supply of food had thinned him out, but he still stood tall and proud, as if he'd never known the time in the cage. A calm expression on his face, he raised the wand he'd obtained and declared: "We're not your exhibits anymore."

Before anyone could react – not that they would have stood a chance against such a powerful wizard – Kingsley whipped out with the stolen wand. Red light shot out of the tip, hitting the wizard closest to him, and without hesitating, he stunned the other men as well.

He didn't waste any time, paying no mind to the still running people, and shot curses at the cages. The magical boundaries shuddered, groaned, the hexes protesting.

But ultimately, they broke.

The exhibits filed out of their cages, picking up wands where they found them. There was no time for victory or reunion scenes, though. Not yet.

Not when they still were in the heart of a giant compound, with many comrades still to free, and more curses to break until they were truly liberated.

But the first step was taken.

Now they would fight their way out of here and take their humanity back.


	4. SiriusRemus

**Round 4:**

Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round Four.

Position: Keeper

Position Prompt: Write about someone being turned into a household pet (by choice of otherwise) and living as one for a while

Title: Mice and Men

Word Count: 1,950

Beta(s): CUtopia and Aya (Thank you!)

Go Wanderers!

* * *

"You don't have to do this, there are more options than Azkaban if you'll just come quietly," Remus Lupin explained calmly, the hairs on his arms standing up.

"Come quietly?" Antonin Dolohov laughed, his remaining teeth appearing thin and loose. "Listen to you, cornered. Trying to negotiate. You are adorable." Dolohov lifted Remus's wand in his free hand, and dropped it to the ground. He then stomped on it swiftly, and Remus felt his heart sink into his stomach. "You know what you remind me of? A sweet little mouse."

And with that, Dolohov shouted an incantation with a flourish which appeared to make him grow exponentially larger, until Remus realised he was shrinking.

* * *

Remus was sure that, given another moment, he would've been the next thing to find its way under Dolohov's boot. Fortunately, Dolohov wasn't counting on his captive Auror in-training having a lifetime of experience being suddenly transformed into a foreign entity. It took Remus only a moment to regain his bearings and scuttle under the nearest cracked floorboard.

Remus was immediately impressed with the amount of speed he was able to build within the tiny body of what he presumed was a mouse. The stomping steps of Dolohov above made the ground shake, but Remus paid him no heed. He followed a metal bar running underneath the building right under the next.

Feeling lighter than air, he moved up, and then from rafter, to window, to a drainpipe as fast as his four little legs could carry his fluffy frame.

Feeling unsure if he would make it to the Ministry, Remus instead attempted to reach the only friend he could think of in the neighbourhood.

He knew _friend_ might not have been the best word to describe his relationship with Sirius Black at that time, but he certainly was not his enemy. And he knew that Sirius did have an affection for small animals which stemmed from his mother's aversion to them.

* * *

When Remus reached Sirius's apartment, he squeezed his head between the draft blocker and the door jam to get inside. The doormat was covered in dog fur. In fact, everything appeared to be covered in dog fur from his new perspective.

Sirius's voice was booming from the sitting room just beyond the small entryway, and Remus followed it, whiskers twitching.

"Mark? James, are you sure there are no duller, _Mugglier_ names you can think of? Are they not allowing any more Johns?"

Remus was glad to hear James Potter's name. Things between Remus and James were far more straightforward. James and he were just mates - there were no mishaps to throw everything up in the air.

"These are Lily's _family_ names," James's voice came in reply. Remus's ears drooped slightly as he rounded the corner to see that Sirius was crouched in front of the floo speaking with their mutual friend. He approached regardless.

"The boy's going to be a wizard. He needs a proper name like: Fenston or Ormerod."

The end of Remus's tail curled, Remus wished he could inject the perspective his Muggle mother had given him into this Pureblood conversation just for a moment. He was sure Lily would veto Fenston immediately.

He scuttled over to Sirius's side, nearly disappearing in the sheeps wool rug set in front of the fire.

"We don't even know if it's going to be a… Oh, Remus, I didn't expect to see you over there. I thought you two were having a little lovers tiff," James floating head jibed, grinning teasingly.

Sirius frowned at this, confused. "Remus?" He half-laughed. "Prongs, I'm home alone. I haven't heard from him since… Well, _since_."

"Oh, come off it, he's sitting right next to you," James said, and it occurred to Remus that Dolohov's spell might have been ineffective in disguising him through the floo. Perhaps one of his two friends had set up wards over their fireplace to prevent such things.

Remus immediately began waving his mousy little appendages around, desperately trying to draw attention. James began to laugh openly at what must've looked truly ridiculous from his perspective.

"Mate, I really don't feel like talking about him right now, you can laugh about us and our little flirtation all you want but I'm sick of all the kidding around. The man may as well have his own invisibility cloak with his talent for disappearing."

Remus paused in his frenzied movements then, turning his head to look up at Sirius who towered up out of the carpet fibres. Sirius looked troubled, Remus had never meant to hurt him, but he asked so much from Remus. He often felt that Sirius couldn't fully comprehend what it was he was asking. For Remus to be out as gay, when he was already struggling to keep under the radar with his monthly disappearances...

"Well, we shouldn't be talking about him. We should _probably_ be talking _to_ him, since he's here. So, you've finally buried the hatchet then?" Things between them always seemed to be so transparent to James, and since he'd moved in with Lily his annoying insightfulness had only grown worse.

"This isn't something I'm ready to joke about. Give it a rest." Sirius pressed his fingers against his closed eyes. "Just convince Lil to call the kid Uxorious after his father and Floo me when you've got your head on straight."

If a mouse could exclaim in laughter and shock, that was the minute sound which escaped Remus in that moment. Uxorious, only Sirius would summon a word like that from the back of the discontinued dictionary.

"No need to get upset, I just figured if you were together maybe you'd figured out whether or not you were together. Honestly if your laughing at that joke, Remus. Whatever it bloody meant, you deserve each other."

"Who are you ruddy talking to you daft git? Get out of my grate!"

"You're the boss, boss!" James said. "But Remus, if that's not you... Then Padfoot, you've got a ghost with a funny sense of humour." With that, James vanished in an instant.

Sirius rose up to stand, shaking his head. The creaking floor nearly deafened Remus.

Remus attempted to disentangle himself from the carpet to follow Sirius into the kitchenette, and after some grappling with the wool, he managed to join the man.

Sirius was waving his wand over a bowl of soup, slowly warming it up as he leafed through some pieces of parchment with his free hand.

The scene was wonderfully warm and domestic and it made Remus ache. It pained him that he was witnessing Sirius like this from the floor for a start, and that he wasn't on level with the man to kiss the crease from his brow.

But man or mouse, Remus had never permitted himself to kiss Sirius, so he didn't see why it should serve as an excuse for his cowardice on this occasion.

Aware that he had to report on Dolohov's whereabouts before he could clock out for the day, Remus refocused his effort to grab Sirius's attentions and get out of there, however awkward it might be.

Scurrying up the edge of the drawers, Remus made his way to the countertop. Feeling weary at this point, he paused in Sirius's peripheral vision and twitched his nose.

Slowly, Sirius turned to him, pushing his hair out of his face and narrowing his eyes. He looked perfect.

"That dormouse did not just sigh," Sirius mumbled.

Remus waved and Sirius dropped his wand in the soup. "Blast," he mumbled, staring into the pot. "Spooky bastard," Sirius continued to complain, and then reaching into the steaming vessel he pulled his wand free and suspended Remus in a clear bubble.

Remus scrambled about with his little mouse paws, turning head over heels and casting about wildly for purchase as he floated across the room.

"Who sent you?" Sirius asked, squinting at the mouse. "Stop bloody squirming in there. Merlin!" With another flick of his wand, Sirius summoned a jar and scooped the floating Remus into it. "Now, you've come as a ruddy mouse. Therefore, I'm thinking you're either an unfortunate friend or a particularly dimwitted foe. So, which is it? Let's see a tiny mouse nod for friend."

Remus rubbed his little mouse paws together, leaning against the edge of the jar as he was still dizzy from being spun around. After another moment's hesitation at the term _friend_ , he sighed again and promptly nodded once.

"Oh, for Godric's sake," Sirius exclaimed, turning the jar upside down and causing Remus to roll out onto the counter. In another moment Sirius was pulling some cheese out of the press and passing it to the little dormouse. "Remus, you bloody queer, how long have you been sniffing around? Was that you who chewed through my skirting board?"

Remus shook his head vigorously, forgetting his dizziness and a lot of other things in his excitement regarding the cheese.

"Forthcoming as ever. Only you could manage to appear so put out in the form of such a small creature. So, James did see you? Remus? Can you look at me and not at the cheese for a moment?"

Remus tried to convey in a look that he might care less about cheese if he wasn't _still a mouse_ , before returning his attention to the cheese.

"Remus, I'd change you back immediately if I wasn't so sure you'd leave the moment I did. Trust you to only come back here in a desperate state. I hope you know that this is no different than the times I've turned up drunk on your doorstep expecting you to clean up after me."

Remus _loved_ cheese.

"Well, you're at least going to hear me out first, because after all this time trying to get in touch and with things the way they are… I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever get the chance to say what needs saying."

If Remus ate for long enough, maybe he could be inside the cheese.

"But then again, what's the point? To any of it, if you weren't brave enough to stomach it as a man, I certainly don't see you accepting it now so… just go."

Abruptly, the cheese began to shrink, and Remus wasn't even eating it.

* * *

"Leave," Sirius was saying, and Remus blinked at him. Completely disoriented.

"I'll never fit into that block of cheese now," Remus mumbled solemnly.

"What?" Sirius asked, and he seemed upset.

"You're upset," Remus said. "When I was a mouse I wanted to kiss that look off your face, but I couldn't because I was a mouse… But I never could before either."

"No," Sirius sighed. "You wouldn't. You can go, see you at the next catastrophe or at the hospital to meet Prongs's brat."

"No, I wouldn't," Remus repeated. "I've no wand."

"Right, of course. You can use the Floo." Sirius walked out to the fireplace and reached behind the clock on the mantel for the Floo Powder. He held it out to Remus, who took the bag and stared at the embers glowing in the grate.

Remus had been such a coward. Such a coward. "I'm sorry," he said, his face feeling hot. _Are you a man Remus Lupin?_ He asked himself.

"It's alright," Sirius grumbled impatiently. "Just get going. Y-you've had a shock to the system, you need to get home, or check-in with the Ministry and get home. Your business."

"Right." Remus took the bag or powder and placed it back on the mantelpiece. "My business." He grabbed Sirius's wrist and closed the space between them in one movement. They stood flush against each other. He felt Sirius's startled laugh on his lip and he swallowed it.

 _Or are you a mouse?_

The difference between space and time didn't seem to matter, both of them were gone, seemed to be passed over in the wake of what came after them. The meeting of the two men, Remus was kissing Sirius at last, kissing him and kissing him. Where his bloody brow furrowed and his infuriating mouth would twist into a wicked grin.

Why Sirius would even allow it after so long was beyond him, but he did. He only groaned and sighed and pulled him closer. Rushing together like waves over sand, inevitable as a tide. Fingers tangled in hair, in clothes, but — Remus hoped — not in vain.


	5. Sybill

Written for QLFC Season 5, Final Round 2

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: Captain

Title: Yackley

Position Prompt: Y: Yaxley, Yorkshire, Yeti, Yarn

Word Count: 1,005

Beta(s): Aya

* * *

From the journal of Sybill Trelawney

03/01/1974

I'm sitting in the pews in York Minster. It's my favourite place to go when I'm visiting Daddy, I do love him but I miss magic terribly whenever I have to come to Yorkshire. I'd settle for anyone who knows a wand from an untipped pencil, but even in the Muggle world there's magic if you look hard enough. There's an astronomical clock here and it's beautiful. It proves that even the Muggles who know nothing of magic are tied in some way to the macabre truth. The inscription over the clock is beautiful, it reads: "AS DYING AND BEHOLD WE LIVE."

I love this cathedral, it expresses so much pain, and truth. The fumes here help clear my third eye and has given me a fascinating vision of a dangerous stranger. It fills me with dread just thinking about him, he haunts my every waking moment. I'm even more frightened to admit that I want to think about him. Maybe because I'm bored off of my broom, or maybe just because I'm ready to behold my life.

* * *

05/01/1974

He caught me mid-seance. After imbibing sherry under Artemis's protection, I had approached an altar outside of a crypt. I'd taken a few extra scarves to ward off the winter nip. I was ready to commune with the spirits. To see the mortal plain through their all-seeing eyes as only a person with seer blood deep in their veins could.

There was mist settling among the stones, old and new. I reflected on how so many of the bodies in this fresh cemetery must still be fleshed.

"If you hear me spirit," I called into the night. "I beg you call back to me and join me at my table."

There was only silence and the soft whisper of the wind so I tried again, I didn't have too long. My father was expecting me home so he could lock the front door and go to bed.

"Spirits," I whispered, low like a mantra. "If you can hear me, please let me know in any way that you can." I'd placed a cup on the counter and it appeared to shift. "Use your voice," I pleaded. Knowing that I had the makings of a true seer in me somewhere. I knew they would answer me, that they might have. But instead it was his voice.

"Don't I know you?" I recognised this man immediately, he was the dangerous stranger.

I told him it was not possible for him to know me, and then I heard footsteps. He tried to talk, but I silenced him and, despite knowing he was a threat, I put out my hands to him. I dared not offend the spirits. "Take my hands!" I insisted. He stepped into the flickering aura of the candlelit altar, and I saw that he was as young as I am myself. I moved to stand beside him and pulled his hands from his sides, holding them tightly so that he would not break the circuit of our shared energy. "Do you hear it?" I asked, and when I looked into his blue eyes I gasped. I saw his death. I saw him tossed from a precipice in an icy tundra, the Yeti looming over him. "My dear," I whispered. "Have you ever been to Tibet?"

His reply could not have left me more shaken.

"Trelawney," he said. All the while the footsteps were getting closer. There was a gust of spiritually enhanced wind and the candles on the altar flickered and died, casting the murderous stranger and I into moon-cut shadow.

"You will meet a sorry end in Tibet, stranger. Beware the white monstrosity: The Yeti," I warned him of my prediction, sure that it was given to me by the spirits for this reason.

Then I received proof that I was right to fear this man, as his face creased up, and in the face of his own inescapable death: he laughed. I pitied him.

"You're barmy," he announced.

"I release you," I said, referring to the spirits as I let go of the strangers hands. He was obviously not prepared to receive the truth and I was unprepared for the sort of malevolent energy he would draw to me. I had carried no sage to the graveyard that night.

* * *

07/01/1974

I have been haunted for days by his mask-like face and his pale eyes; the strangely familiar stranger from the graveyard who is doomed to be eaten by a Yeti in the Himalayas. I fear whatever malevolent spirit gave him my name, for clearly my formidable third eye was strong enough on that bright night with Mercury inverted to extend my gift even to him.

A fool who would laugh in the face of his own death, after being gifted such a prophecy. He was clearly in denial, unable to face the truth. He believes that I am simply spinning a yarn like so many others, it is easier for him to believe.

Some people simply cannot broaden their minds.

It is not the last I will see of this imposing blond boy, who so tragically reflects the appearance of the troll that will be the cause of his imminent demise.

Tomorrow I return for my final term at Hogwarts, where I will take the news of my success with divination to my mentor there. Even if she is an old fraud.

* * *

09/01/1974

I'm sitting at breakfast, I've just returned to school and I saw him. Silly Sybill he'd simply slipped my mind, although it's hardly my fault that all slack-jawed Slytherins seem so similar.

It is not an uncommon issue for us Trelawney's. Sometimes the inner eye is simply so strong it overwhelms the physical plain. It is easier for a clairvoyant to understand the future than to connect with the past. Yes I remember him now. Yackley. The boy who is doomed to be crushed by a falling statue of the Dalai Lama.


	6. Marauders

Written for QLFC Season 5, Final Round 1

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: Captain

Title: Eyes on the Prize

Position Prompt: Write about Msaw Ætare

This is a lil' AU

Word Count: 1,050

Beta(s): Aya Diefair

* * *

"So this is the place?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

Elphinstone wasn't surprised that Shacklebolt sounded like he'd heard about it. Of course he had, there wasn't a student in Hogwarts who didn't know about the place. The two wizards briefly shook hands. Elphinstone didn't turn to face the younger man, he was careful to keep his eyes on the 'shopfront'.

"This is it," Elphinstone Urquart replied. He was glad to be relieved, even if this was the only field assignment he'd had so far, the place could make even the most eager trainee miss paperwork.

Elphinstone watched Shacklebolt shake off the after effects of Apparition out of the corner of his eye. They stood outside Msaw Ætare on the corner of Knockturn Alley, a building so shrouded in mystery that the recently initiated Aurors in training maintained a measured distance and spoke with near reverence.

"How many times have you been sent out here, now?" Elphinstone asked, still careful not to turn his head.

Elphinstone could just see Shacklebolt scrub a hand through his neat fro in his peripheral vision. "Honestly, this is my first time on a field assignment, but I heard from Dorcas Meadows that this is sort of a dud job."

Elphinstone smiled, endeared by the way Shacklebolt acted like he'd been caught out when he was speaking to someone nearly as inexperienced. Although Elphinstone was a little more long in the tooth than the average trainee, as he'd transferred from law enforcement. "Well, she's right. I've been put on Msaw Ætare detail for the last two weeks running. This is like some kind of Auror training equivalent to running laps. I sometimes wonder if they send us out here to see if we have the sense to think for ourselves and call a pointless task a pointless task." A sudden noise made Elphinstone flinch despite his unaffected words and the two wizards whipped out their wands. It was a shop bell. Elphinstone pulled out a mirror and angled it see a small person who bore an uncanny resemblance to a pile of rags emerged into the alley and bustled off in the opposite direction. He might've gotten a better look but of course his focus remained primarily on Msaw Ætare.

"So, was Dorcas exaggerating when she said the Ministry's orders don't even include going inside the place?" Shacklebolt asked, his voice hushed.

Elphinstone held the mirror out toward the other trainee. "I'm afraid not, did she also mention something about staring at the facade of the building, prioritising constantly observing it over your very life?"

Shacklebolt might've shaken his head from the sound of the rustle. "All over some silly superstition? We're expected to spend valuable time out here on Ministry gold?"

"What's the alternative? Say the rumours are true: they can't move the whole building into the Department of Mysteries. One of the blokes who I worked with on detail said he'd seen skilled wizards end up in Mungos for little more than pointing a wand at this place."

"I'm starting to hope you're right about this being some kind of test of our initiative."

"You're welcome to test that theory after I leave, although you might lose your job either way. Now, here's your debrief: you are to observe the shopfront of Msaw Ætare for the duration of your shift. Don't look at me, look at the shop. Good. Now, no matter what: do not let this place out of your site. The Ministry has ordered someone to actively watch this place night and day for as long as I've worked with them. So, if something happens that seems more urgent, it isn't. Understood?"

"But what if-"

"Don't look at me. Eyes on the prize. Understand?"

"Right, sure."  
"Try to blink quickly," Elphinstone advised, then with no short order of relief, he Disapparated.

* * *

 _Article published on the second page of the Daily Prophet, the following day:_  
"A young Auror in training was found unconscious today following a head injury in the early hours of this morning. It's possible the victim of the attack was on duty at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The details of the young person's identity and the nature of the incident have not yet been released to the press, but this journalist believes their may be some association to the long term watchdog mission ongoing at Msaw Ætare. Ministry officials have refused to comment."

* * *

"The place is like an unbreakable vow you can touch," Sirius said, tapping his wand on his chin and causing some of the stubble there to thin.

"How much does it cost to send a letter there?" Peter asked from his place curled up like a lumpy pillow at the end of his bed. He was cutting a piece of parchment to size in a line so uneven it made Remus flinch.

"It's not a matter of price, Peter. The Ministry has the place on lockdown," Remus explained, crossing the dormitory to cast a cutting charm on the butchered paper.

"There's always someone watching it, and they say the door won't open if someone is looking but the whole thing is mumbo jumbo," Sirius insisted. "It'd have to be some crazy altered Fidelius charm, or something even older. Plus last night they knocked out the ministry watchdog and nothing crazy has happened yet."

"Has it not, Messr. Padfoot?" James asked, skimming the article in the paper again. Any news on Msaw Ætare was worth some intrigue, it was supposed to contain the darkest curse in Britain. Concentrated into some powerful nonbeing in the centre of Wizarding London by Merlin himself. "And you've taken the time to personally check every corner of our little wizarding world, have you?"

"I'll have you know that I run a crosscheck on the facial expressions of the Slytherins every morning and they looked no more smug than usual, which is all the evidence I need that this Msaw Ætare rubbish is a hoax," Sirius said, his eyes rolling back in his skull and his teeth falling from his mouth.

James scratched his cheek and wiped the strip of skin that had come with his fingernails off on his recently exposed femur as his flesh peeled from his bones. "Yeah," he replied, shrugging his shoulder with a harrowing pop as the joint was wrenched from its socket. "You're probably right."

Peter was a pile of ants. Remus smiled.


	7. Bellatrix

**Round 13**

Written for the QLFC, Season 5, Round 13.

Position: Captain

Position Prompt: Queen: Write about a character that can be considered dominant.

Title: Dark Queen

Word Count: 1,000

Go Wanderers!

* * *

 _Crumpled and pale._

"Do you think we should go?" Hermione asked, they hadn't taken off funeral garb for days, but they didn't step inside the ceremonial hall for all of the back to back services.

They'd all waited outside when Tom Riddle's remains had been laid to rest. Now came another one of the greatest mass murderers of their time.

 _Fading out to applause._

"Of course we're not bloody going," Ron replied, shaking his head adamantly. "Are you barmy."

"Would Tonks have gone?" Harry asked, bless him.

Andromeda was sure they hadn't spotted her, she was also sure it was for her sake that they were even considering stepping up to see off Bellatrix Lestrange, her deranged sister.

 _So small in the end._

Andromeda would leave them to decide for themselves what they could stomach, for her, she couldn't deny Bellatrix some company for her last rights. Even if her big sister wasn't there to bully her into it herself. Bella had always been a big personality, particularly when she was young. So vibrant, before she'd fallen to him.

There was only one other person there when Andromeda stepped within. She wasn't surprised to see Narcissa there, she was a little saddened to see her without her son but it wasn't so shocking.

It would serve Narcissa's husband and their son well to avoid being seen all together at such an event. Narcissa's presence alone might be justified but to attend all together might make a spectacle of it. As though in these trying times a person could pay too much respect to a lost member of their family.

But such was the way with death and Death Eaters. Everything had to be cautious and no truth could be fully expressed.

The ceremonial space was full of the same candles it had been for all the ceremonies for the length of the day.

Late on the next day Andromeda expected to be seeing off her daughter, a war hero buried in an unglamorous fashion that would reflect the circumstances of her death. A soldiers funeral, no frills.

A soldier not unlike Bellatrix, though Bella was no ordinary foot soldier, no.

There at the top of the room, though it was clear she hadn't been laid out with any special attention to what she might've preferred, lay a dark queen.

A cursory scouring charm had been cast on the body but as Andromeda stepped closer she could still see the faded stains of blood on her sisters hands. Innocent blood.

"You should've seen her at the battle, Andromeda," Narcissa whispered, and Andromeda shook her head.

"I don't want to think about that now."

"She was magnificent."

"I'll bet."

"And devastating. I saw your girl get clear of her at one point."

"I don't want to hear it, Ciss."

It appeared that Harry and his brigade had chosen not to join them as the ceremony began.

"For once, she didn't get her way."

Andromeda blinked against tears. "Oh, but she did."

 _"I'll have your whole rotten life, Andy. I'll take it to hell with me."_

* * *

On the third floor, pressed tighter to the wall than she thought possible, Nymphadora Tonks held her breath. There was nobody in the school who had time to concern themselves with stealing it from her anymore, there was woman ready for her and she appeared to be the one for the job. Tonks thought of little Teddy and tried vainly to Disapparate. It was a childish but she couldn't resist the desire.

It had felt like she'd been Apparating constantly since she'd arrived. That pull around her stomach didn't want to give up, yanking around her middle, pulling desperately to get her back to him. Back to his wisp of technicolour hair, to his furrowed brow which flattened only for a kiss. Had she said it to her mother before she left? Would her child be doomed to premature wrinkles?

Tonks smiled from her hiding place. Remus knew how to cheer the boy up, and they wouldn't both go down in the battle, not unless all was more than lost anyway. If there was to be any winning it would take both of them and if they were to lose, there'd be nothing to more to lose anyway. No life to live for.

Her aunt's distinctive, thudding footsteps came within earshot.

Tonks's lungs burned, she moved her hand as close as possible to her wand without disturbing the heavy fabric of the tapestry blocking her from view.

Floorboards creaked beyond the musty fabric, her throat heaved against a cough as dust caught in her throat.

"Gotcha," the woman dressed all in Black cried with glee. "Incarcerous!"

A thin rope noosed Tonks's ankle and she was tugged to the ground and out into the centre of the hall. Tonks emerged with a bruised tailbone in a fit of coughs, but her wand was held aloft.

"Relashio," she spluttered, stumbling back.

"Expelliarmus!" Bellatrix shrieked, clearly intent to play with her food.

Fortunately Tonks was ready with a non-verbal shield charm and Bellatrix's wand was sent spinning up in the air. Quick as a cat, Tonks was back on her feet and sprinting down the hall once more. Tonks was grateful that her lack of grace did not equate to a lack of speed as she just about made the corner. Bellatrix's wand was recovered quickly enough for a hex to light the hall after her, but the spell missed and Tonks made her escape.

Running to a window she cast a cushioning charm on the ground below and swung one foot over the sill.

"Dora, no!" It was Remus, standing just a few feet up the corridor, she turned and smiled at him. He looked desperate, a black shadow seemed to move in her peripheral vision.

"You've been so bold." Bellatrix's wand was in her back, and her heart was in her throat.


	8. Rubeus

**Written for QLFC Season 5, Finals**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Captain

 **Position Prompt:** Write a story set during Harry Potter's first year (1991–1992 school year)

 **Word Count:** 990

 **Beta(s):** The Wanderers

* * *

He sat in his small kitchen with his dogs heavy head in his lap and smiled at the flames dancing in the hearth. There were no words for the feeling in his chest. The pride he felt. He should write Dumbledore a letter, or maybe bake him something. The floor beneath him creaked as he sat leaned back in his chair.

Harry Potter.

The boy looked like a string bean in glasses; he looked like every good familiar thing.

The fireplace blurred in Hagrids vision as small teardrops began to pinch out the corners of his eyes and disappear into his coarse black beard.

From the moment Lily Potter had handed Harry over to Rubeus, Hagrid had felt compelled to try and make this small, fragile lump safe. The giant of a man had at once felt safer and more fragile at the thought. Something as whole as Harry Potter, it just made him seem all the more breakable.

Harry had come from something so rare, so pure as the love between his parents. Despite a rocky start there were no corners left on the love Lily and James shared, they'd smoothed each other right out. Enough grit will do that to even the most stubborn stones, and his friends had been fine as any rubies.

Hagrid pressed his fingers into his eyes, it was an old pain; the absence of his friends. Fang whined at his feet.

"Don't mind me ya ol'mutt," Hagrid mumbled, patting his pockets in search of his handkerchief. When he found the patched fabric, he blew his nose and laid a gentle hand on his companions head. "I wer' just thinkin'..."

On the table there sat a small scrap of parchment written carefully in the hand writing of a child unfamiliar with a quill, the end of each line ran thin from the boy hardly remembering to dip the nib. It was only a few words, but it was the most precious thing Hagrid owned. It was a short note written by the boy who had meant so much to so many. The boy who Hagrid had personally carried from the wreckage of a good start; to the safest bad start possible.

It was a moment in Hagrid's life which had weighed on him for many years, and finally he felt relieved of that burden. Thanks to Dumbledore's trust, he'd been given the chance to be the poor lads deliverer once again. He'd had the chance to bring Harry home. He felt the pride swell in his chest once more.

He reached across the table and picked up the note from Harry. He'd agreed to join Hagrid in the cottage for tea. Rubeus could nearly hear Harry's voice saying the words with heartbreaking bewilderment: _me? You want me?_

It had been emotional for Rubeus: meeting Harry again. Finding out that he'd gone his whole life knowing less about himself than the kids he was sitting in class with. It had made Hagrid angry, angry at those fool Muggles that had raised him in ignorance and mad at himself for not… well that was up to Dumbledore and it wasn't for Hagrid to say. Dumbledore was a good man. Great man.

It just seemed an insult to James and Lily for the lad not to have known, but was it right for Hagrid to have told him all that? About what had happened, and You Know Who, and the frightening lot of it?

If it had been his son, would he have asked the same of the Potters?

"Oh," he said aloud. With that thought his musings came crashing to a halt and he was sprung into action. If only he could've asked himself that question sooner, it made everything so much clearer.

His chair screamed across the floor as he stood and made his way to the armoire by the stove. Fang grunted with some discontent, and his tail thudded on the floor as he wagged it twice from nerves brought on by the sudden rush of movement.

Hagrid was rifling through drawers, pulling papers outs and piling them up on the cot behind him. Merlin, if it had been _Hagrid's_ son, nothing would've stopped Lily. James, Hagrid snuffled out something like a laugh. James was his family, he would've treated the child like family.

Rubeus shook his head, pulling a homemade invitation from the bottom drawer. The base was concave with the weight of countless newspaper clippings and vials of medicines for the creatures across the grounds.

He remembered Lily handing it to him: _tell us you'll be there, we want the whole family together!_

How had he let it get so mixed up in his head? How had he contemplated letting the Potter's son make a stranger of him? The lad, Harry, he needed his family.

* * *

Albus smiled at the familiar penmanship on the scroll he'd just received. It was unlike Rubeus to send a note, typically he came crashing into the office to deliver his news.

Dumbledore was a little worse for wear, he had not slept well the night before. In saying that, ultimately the night time excursion he had chosen to go on had ended well.

He had been meaning to talk with Harry Potter about his habit of creeping out to the Mirror of Erised for some time. To know what the boy so craved had not surprised Albus at all, but it had deeply saddened him nonetheless.

For this reason the parchment in his hand fortified Dumbledore somewhat, it was clear that the reason Hagrid had chosen this mode of communication was due to the fact the this note was not the only one he had sent out, he was looking to make a collection and he wasn't shy about asking for help to do it. This made a change.

Typically Rubeus would burn his umbrella before inconveniencing any one of his friends, but it can be strange what a wizard will be willing to do for family.

* * *

In the end compiling the bloody thing had been a slapdash effort all in one tear strewn day. Dumbledore had given him the day off to do it for Merlin knew what reason. After Hagrid blundering and practically sending Harry to his death helping him get past that blasted three-headed dog, Rubeus should've been sent on a permanent holiday.

He'd poured his heart into the leather bound edition, one of a kind. It'd be a ruddy fine heirloom. It had been cathartic seeing Lily and James smiling up at him out of the photos he'd managed to collect.

He'd felt ashamed knowing he'd sent their lad into harm's way, but seeing them again. Looking at them, bright and young. It reminded him who they were, and he knew they'd forgive him. That even if he didn't deserve it, the fools would thank him.

When he gave the photo album to Harry, looking impossibly tiny and talking impossibly brave in his hospital bed, the boy was struck dumb. He flipped through the pages not saying a word, but Hagrid understood.


End file.
